


All Mine Now

by OverwatchingYouSleep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gore, M/M, Possessiveness, Violence, Yandere, male reader - Freeform, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:10:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverwatchingYouSleep/pseuds/OverwatchingYouSleep
Summary: M! Reader / Reaper self-indulgent fic. Reaper decides he's tired of watching you run around on your own.





	

He wouldn't say anything, wouldn't address you directly, but his face spoke of nothing but unfathomable rage. You backed away from him until you had no more room to cower, your back pressed to the wall. A raging beast stood in front of you. Fear prickled the skin as he studied you methodically, his tongue poking out to lick against his monstrous teeth. His jaw was sloughing off his face. He was so enraged that he could barely keep himself together.

"I'm sorry," you begged for the fifth time, trying to inch along the wall towards the door. He slammed his fist into the wall besides your head, leaving a crater and stopping you effectively in your tracks. You whimpered, remembering how lucky you were that you actually got a warning that time.

"I'm sure you are," he spit, his voice filled with bitterness. He was so angry. You wished he had not chosen to take off his mask; you didn't like to look him in the eyes when he was like this. He was losing himself to rage and you were afraid, the way new lineaments sprouted out of him like popcorn, lining the skin of his face with an absurd number of inhuman eyes and misaligned teeth. Yet still, he pulled his fist away from the fresh hole like a warning, and you were frozen shock still in the face of such abstract horror.

"You never did care about how I felt when you do this kind of shit, did you?" he asked, and your eyes trailed off to the side. All the times about how you snuck out without him knowing, hanging out with friends and going out to have a good night, they crossed your mind with a growing sense of alarm. You’d been secretive because you knew he'd flip if he found out. He didn't live with you; wasn't your boyfriend, so you could justify it not being his business. Even then, you had suspected he knew all along. You didn't realize it would chalk up to be so horrid when it turned out he did.

"I--"

"And who was she?" You felt your veins deflate from how quickly the blood rushed away. Your mouth hung open, halfway through a word you couldn't finish, staring at him dumbly. How long had he been watching you?

"The girl who I was hanging out with?" you asked, your voice straining to raise above a whisper. "Gabriel, she's my---"

He smacked you right across the cheek, his palm making contact with your jaw. You swung around violently, the force sending you to the floor, and white spots hung over your vision. There was ringing in your ears. You moved your hand to massage your jaw, and he kicked you onto your back with one foot. Trying to make eye contact with something that has eyes uncountable is difficult, but you manage to find his primary set among his monstrous features. He looked grotesque.

"She's not your anything, now," he said, and his voice was firm. His foot came down on your chest and he pressed, your entire chest flattening beneath his heavy boot. You were fighting for breath; he was squeezing it all out of you like a balloon. Your eyes were desperate, pleading with him silently, and he regarded you without emotion. Cold.

"You should have thought about that before you went out." He tilted his head, relieved some of the pressure on your abused chest and started to move his foot down to your stomach instead. "Did something stupid."

The metal bottom of his boot clinked against the metal button of your jeans, and that’s when you froze. The breaths that you were just gulping in were now choked up in your throat. There was a pause, as though he were letting the reality of the situation sink into your mind, before he continued to drag his foot down, his heel gently navigating down your entire cock. Though it was soft, it perked under the attention, and your entire body felt light.

You wanted to shrink into nothing and disappear.

"Gabrie--"

"No."

You swallowed and tried again. "Reaper--"

He stepped down lightly, and your breath escaped your teeth in a hiss. Hint taken. The pressure went back to a light touch, just enough, and he began to massage your cock beneath his boot. It hurt, just a little, but it was such a good pain that you found yourself rocking your hips against his foot in encouragement, and how couldn't you? He always made things go quicker when you cooperated with him. Then again, he had never been this angry with you before.

"I am going to rip you open," he drawled, watching your undulating hips with a sort of wry amusement, "and play with your entrails. Hang you by your ankles and let your blood drip out over the vent. Maybe even sell your organs on the black market, get some value out of your worthless body."

He spoke like this all the time when he was angry. You were pretty sure hearing it all out loud got him off in some sick way. Like this was his form of dirty talk. You were afraid that he was actually angry enough to go through with some of it this time.

"Then, I'll turn your skull into a little fucktoy." You were half-hard beneath his boot, and your hips were moving of their own accord now, seeking added friction from the tread. You threw back your head in a silent moan. “Maybe I’ll pull out all of your teeth so I can fit more of my cock in your mouth.”

He was really into it this time. If you got this over with quickly enough, you could only hope it'd be over before it got into even more dangerous territory. You could only hope though. He was quite angry.

"Then again," he continued, and lifted his boot off your cock. You nearly cried from the sudden lack of touch. "You wouldn't be able to thrash and buck and scream if you’re dead." His fingers curled into your hair with ease, and he lifted you to meet his eye. His face still positively twitched with fury. "No, I'll just have to keep you alive then, won't I?"

"That's up to you," you spat back without thinking, and he regarded you with a smirk. You just as quickly opened up your mouth to apologize and he swiped his claws across your cheek. Your head swung, but with your hair still tangled between his fingers, you could only watch the blood jet out of your mouth before your head snapped back into place, giving you whiplash.

"That it is,” he agreed. He was groping your crotch, his massive hand working you roughly through the denim of your jeans. He knew how you liked to be stroked, knew exactly where to grab to make you shudder and melt in his arms, and he abused this knowledge handily.

He had you hanging by your hair to where your toes were barely scraping the ground, and still you humped his hand restlessly, in a hormonal rhythm that begged release. He watched it all with glee.

"Before anything," he said, pulling his hand back right when you began to sweat. Again, you wailed when he removed the pressure from your neglected cock. Your hands took his place, trying to massage yourself and find some sort of relief that his sadistic ass wouldn't give you. You had barely gotten them unbutton before he smacked them away, nearly breaking your wrist. "Listen to me, you ingrate!"

You puffed up your cheeks, and your mistake hadn’t even registered before he struck you across the face again. You had just washed back the taste of blood out of your mouth, and it came back in force, dripping down your lips and shooting out on the carpet. He dropped you to the ground in a heap, leaving you to spit the contents of your mouth onto the floor. It was almost familiar to feel his foot pressed against the back of your head. One push would be all he needed to shove your face into the floor.

“I’m not doing anything for you until I hear you say something.” Dread creeped up your spine immediately. Below you, the steadily growing puddle of blood stained the white carpet, a sporadic dripping stream from the corners of your lips down. Your fists clenched on the floor beside it.

“What?” you asked, trying hard not to cry. You didn’t want to be weak at a moment like his.

“Tell me that you’re mine.” Your eyes shot open, and the first thought that entered your mind was to tell him to fuck clean off. Your self-preservation instinct kicked in and dispelled the thought, but your tongue still felt swollen with the words.

"I'd really rather not," you admitted, and the pressure began to increase. The floor grew closer, slowly and steadily. He didn't say anything yet; he was giving you the very gracious opportunity to change your answer. It was a silent threat that loomed in the air as blatantly as a neon sign. He didn't have to speak. Still, perhaps stupidly, you wouldn't take it quite yet. "Why?"

"Because," he said, and though it looked like that would be all he’d say, he must have decided to push forward and actually explain himself. "I didn't think having you run off like a scamp would bother me, but it turns out it does. So I'm putting a stop to it." Your nose was touching the ground now, the smell of your own blood filling your nostrils with a copper sting and triggering your nausea. "Say it."

"Okay, Gabriel," your voice was quiet, and you took a deep shuddering breath to prepare yourself for the words you were about to give him. You hated it. This was denial of everything Reaper did to you, a complete submission to his will and power. You couldn't believe you were allowing yourself to say it. You didn't want to give him this power. Yet, his own strength lingered over you, and you had no choice. You simply couldn't say no, so you closed your eyes and spit it out. "I'm yours."

"Like you mean it."

"Costs extra."

There was where he reached the end of his patience. His claws wove through your hair and nearly scalped you when he did, pulling your hair back and slamming your face down into the floor. Your nose cracked harshly, and you could feel the warm liquid bubbling out over your lip and onto the carpet, but you were too busy trying to breathe to worry about it. Reaper's other hand was pulling your hips up to his level, making short work of your pants and not hiding the way he was groping you while he did.

"Stupid," he was saying, muttering it under his breath like he was dealing with a frustrating problem instead of a person. "Stupid, stupid." His psyche must have been all sorts of fucked for him to be that way, but it didn't seem to be causing him any stress. He seemed borderline excited to be ripping your jeans down your legs and exposing you. Immediately they tented from your erection, and you were glad your blushing face was forced into the carpet. The only thing worse than this would be having to see it.

Boxers ripped apart, he was prodding his finger at your puckered hole already. You breathed a sigh of relief when he pushed himself in and you felt that he had taken off his gauntlets. Even with all his anger, he was gentle there, and you were so disturbed when you realized just how much your attitude on Reaper had placated. You would let him do nearly anything to you. Any little acts of mercy were like gems. Still yet, even with all the ways he's abused you in the past and now, you still rose your hips to meet him, still anticipated his cock in you with a tempted heartbeat and bated breath. Even your own dick was ramrod stiff.

"You’re tight. Been a while." Even as he observed this, he still finger-banged you relentlessly. One finger became two, and somewhere in the mix he added what must have been his freakish tongue to lube you up, which eased your burning pain just a bit. He was being unnervingly thoughtful for his rage, and you felt uneasy about it, wondering why he didn't just take you dry, as he was prone to doing when he was in a mood?

He removed his fingers, switching to full tongue, and you decided not to question what was undoubtedly a good thing. Your body responded to the sensations with goosebumps and shudders, and his nails dug into the flesh of your thighs every time your shaking body threatened his grip on you. Your cock was throbbing, and you wanted so badly to reach for it, to relieve yourself. You wouldn't even try. It was so good now; you didn't want to ruin whatever sort of calm had come over him.

"There," he pulled away, satisfied, and you could feel how much more relaxed your ass felt after his ministrations. He was right; it had been a while. You felt like you were ready to take him again, and at least it wouldn't be too painful for you. Behind you, belts were being adjusted and his cold flesh was being pressed against you insistently. You mentally steeled yourself while he got aligned. "Say it."

This time, you’re not feeling up to tempting fate. "I'm yours."

"Again."

"...I'm—“

He slammed into you painfully and all at once. You cried out in pain, your fingers clawing at the carpet helplessly.  He wasted no time in pounding deep inside of you, and you knew immediately that what little lube he had provided was not enough, that he would contribute more blood to the carpet by the time he pulled out. He seemed to pay the tightness no mind, only holding you still like a fucktoy and enjoying how you squeezed around him. One of his hands left your hip to grab at your cock instead, and your body tensed into stone.

"What's wrong?" he teased. His voice betrayed his smugness. He was so delighted to have you in this position, and you knew he would milk it until he got bored, which would take hours. This was really only the beginning, and still you felt so spent already, jerking wildly in Gabriel's grip as he practically strangled your cock in his fingers. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"What answer are you hoping to hear?" you grit, and he gave you a hundred-tooth smile. It seemed like his patience meter had reset. He was having **fun** now.

“I’m on the fence.” You hated his tone. You hated him, you wanted to say it, but he’d make you second-guess yourself and you really just wanted to stew in untouchable loathing. Your humped his hand with a pathetic degree of desperation, the jerking motion rocking you back on his cock in the process. It was a pain that made tears spring out of your eyes but you couldn’t stop, couldn’t help how good he made you feel. You felt disgusting.

He acknowledged your tears with a low grunt of approval, taking the time for one slow, deep thrust that left your eyes rolled halfway back in your skull. His cock was pulsing; you could feel the erratic switching of his hips that told you he was close. Still in almost all his body armor. He reared his body up, seeming to pull away.

“I want you to remember something, kid.” The sudden absence of his cock in your ass made you gasp, and you were flipped on your back before your next breath. Already, Gabriel was moving back into position to slide inside of you, his hand now working you even harder to orgasm. You wailed in pain when he penetrated you a second time, grunting from the strain. He was becoming even more monstrous.

“I own you,” he hissed through what didn’t even look like a mouth, and he buried his face in your shoulder before you could get a good look. Somewhere, a jaw full of sharp teeth clenched down on your neck, and you nearly tore your vocal chords screaming.

Even so, he was still ramming you and jerking your cock in the rough, handsy method that he had learned made you a mess in his arms. He was right beside you, eating you alive. Your length twitched, your mind was scattered, and you could only stick out your tongue in weak defeat. On your stomach, you could feel the sticky warmth that told you that you had cum, and your face flushed in utter shame.

“…oh?” Whatever blood that had already rushed to your face darkened by 20 shades. His hand made its way between your body and his and collected your cum on his fingers, holding it up so that you could see it. “What does this mean?”

“…What do you mean?” He smiled at you knowingly, wiping your spunk off on your own lips.

“It means that you’re sensitive.” His now-sticky hand wrapped around your cock again, and at the barest sensation of his tough skin against you, you jerked forward with a squeal. His cock followed you no matter how hard you squirmed away from him. He seemed determined to shoot his cum as deep inside of you as he possibly could, the way his hips ground against yours with his rocking thrusts.

“Please,” you gasped, the velvety flesh of your cock crawling beneath his touch. You were near overstimulated. Tears continued to stream down your face. “You can have me, just please, **please** —“

_“Haaaa—“_

He grunts harshly, and you can tell right away that he’s coming, the various teethed orifices on his face spreading in ecstasy. His face begins to return back to it’s human configuration, his various extra features disappearing as he pumped his load into your ass. Your hips shook as he pulled himself off of you, letting cum and blood leak out of you and onto the carpet.

“Hope you’re not worn out yet,” he grunted, flipping you back onto your stomach and pulling your cheeks apart to stare at your abused asshole. “I’m not going to stop until you’re _gushing_.”

On the floor beside you, the tattered remains of your plaid boxers lay forgotten, and you were forced to shove it over your shoulder wound so you wouldn’t pass out before he was done. You couldn’t beg for help, ask for assistance, do anything. Only lay there. Take it. Satisfy him quicker.

He pushed his cock back in your ass, groaning at the feeling, and you closed your eyes. One round was all you had in you. You just wanted it to be over so you could fix yourself up for the next time he decided to break you apart. You didn’t think it would be very long. He assured you, somewhere between unloading his hot cum on your face and fucking you against the wall, that his visits would be much more often.


End file.
